


Allons-y!

by bellatemple



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-28
Updated: 2010-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellatemple/pseuds/bellatemple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deer Path Inn, Lake Forest, Illionois, 2009.  Nine.  Yes, Doctor, <i>nine.</i>  Can you believe it? 900 years old, and he still can't be bothered to get directions right. . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Allons-y!

**Author's Note:**

> for [](http://maychorian.livejournal.com/profile)[**maychorian**](http://maychorian.livejournal.com/)'s birthday comment fic meme. The [prompt](http://maychorian.livejournal.com/237467.html?thread=4333979#t4333979) was: "Dean and Donna both have spazzy companions who are ancient, knowledgeable, spiky-haired, and wear long trench coats. (They also both have self-esteem issues despite their complete awesomeness, poor woobies.) THEY SHOULD MEET SOMEHOW." and I said YES, THEY TOTALLY SHOULD and wrote this.

Dean spotted them as they came in. It'd be almost more of a trick _not_ to, really -- the man had a sort of manic bounciness to him that made Dean wonder if he'd forgotten his medication that morning, and the woman had a voice they could probably hear in Saskatchewan.

"I'm just saying," she was, well, just saying, "I've never even _heard_ of these books."

"Really?" Their accents alone would have made them stand out -- he didn't hear many British accents in Illinois. The man rubbed the back of his head, making his hair stand, if possible, even taller. "They're brilliant. Oh, mind you, the prose isn't exactly level with Agatha Christie, but the _themes_ are classic."

"The themes."

"You know, like --" More head rubbing. "Family. That's a very big one. The battle between Good and Evil."

"Well, it looks like a trashy romance novel."

"I suppose so, but you know how publishers are. Anyway, it's just . . . nice to read about someone else saving the world, for once. Not that they do that good a job of it -- ah!" They'd reached the front desk, and Dean had to lean back a bit on his stool at the bar to keep watching them. "Yes, hello!" The man pulled a small wallet from his pocket and flipped it open. "I'm the Doctor, and this is Donna Noble."

"Mr. and Mrs. Noble," said the receptionist. "One room?"

"No," said the woman, jumping onto the end of the question. "No, no, we're not married."

The man nodded quickly. "Definitely not married."

"Ever," said Donna.

A pause. Dean leaned a bit further to try and catch the receptionist's expression, and nearly fell off his stool. "Right," she said. "Well, it doesn't look like we have any reservations under the name 'Noble', but we do have a room with two queens available if you'd --"

"No, no." The man waved his hand in the air. "That's alright, we have accommodations. We're just here for the convention."

Another pause. "We don't have any conventions scheduled this week, sir."

"Sure you do. I bought our tickets months ago. Well. Last night. Well. It might as _well_ be months ago. . . ." The man's voice trailed off as he looked over his shoulder, scanning the lobby area, then over the other towards the bar. Dean looked away so as not to be caught staring, and the man continued. "Are you . . . quite sure?"

"Yes." The polite tone was falling out of the receptionist's voice. "Quite sure."

"And . . . this is the Deer Path Inn, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Lake Forest, Illinois."

"Yes, sir."

"June 28, 2010?"

Another pause. "Nine, sir."

"No, ten."

"No, _nine_. It's 2009."

The man wrinkled his nose, surveying the lobby again. "Ah. So we're, uh. A bit early, then."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Oh, just a bit."

The man nodded, head bobbing up and down in a distracted manner. "I must have programmed in the wrong date."

"Yeeeeah." The woman folded her arms.

The man brightened. "Still, Deer Path Inn, Lake Forest, Illinois! I'm sure it's brilliant!"

"Would you like a room, then, sir?" The receptionist sounded faintly amused, now.

"He'd love one." The woman patted the man's arm, smirking. "You just get that set up, Doctor. I'll be at the bar for a drink." She stepped around him and started in Dean's direction, her smirk growing as the man started patting down his suit jacket.

"Donna," the man called. She kept walking. "Donna, I don't have --"

"Work it out, space man!" she called back without turning. She made a beeline for the bar counter, stopping only a few feet away from where Dean was sitting. She signaled the bar tender for a beer, then turned sideways towards Dean, who'd given up on pretending not to have watched the whole exchange. "Can you believe that? Nine hundred years old, and he _still_ can't be bothered to get his directions right."

"Or years, apparently." Dean smirked back and took a sip of his beer. "You know, I've heard of jet lag, but that seems a little ridiculous."

"Ridiculous might as well be his middle name." The bartender set her drink in front of her and she flashed him a slightly tired smile. "Cheers, mate." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I suppose it might even be his first name, actually."

"He's booking your room, and you don't even know his first name?"

She shrugged, looking a little annoyed. "What of it?"

"No offense, you just don't look the type."

She snorted. "My mum would be glad to hear it. You know that type well, do you?"

"Well enough." Dean looked down into his glass as he downed the last of his beer, then held up a finger to request another. "Dean Winchester."

"Donna Noble."

"So I heard."

"Oy!" Dean glanced up, thinking the shout was meant for him, only to find that Castiel had appeared with his usual lack of warning -- or regard for personal space. "Little bit of air, there, buster!"

Castiel was leaning forward, his nose inches from Donna's, eyes narrowed in concentration. "You're an anomaly."

"I'll anomaly you if you don't back off!"

Dean grabbed Castiel by the back of his coat collar and hauled back. It was a bit like trying to haul back an elephant. "Cass. Personal space."

Castiel took the hint and stepped back a few inches, still not taking his eyes off poor Donna. "She's not from here."

"Yeah, dude, she's British." Dean continued tugging until Castiel finally pulled back a socially acceptable distance. He looked like he was going to say something further, but let it go and looked at Dean.

"I came to tell you I've found a lead. I'm going to go look into it."

"Yeah. You do that." Dean raised his fresh beer and took a large gulp. "I'll be here."

Castiel stood in place for a moment, ramrod straight, then glanced over at Donna again. ". . . Do you mean here in the bar, or --"

"Look, just call, okay?"

Castiel nodded once. "Okay." And with another glance at Donna, he turned and walked stiffly to the door. Dean had to admit, he was a little proud. Castiel remembered not to just vanish all by himself. He looked back at Donna, who was staring after Castiel, her mouth turned down at the edges. "Sorry about that," Dean said. "He can be a little. . . ." He trailed off with a wave of his hand. Donna looked back at him, then turned to face the bar again.

"Is he an alien?"

For a second, Dean almost thought she meant that seriously. He snorted. "No. He just . . . had kind of an usual upbringing." To say the least. "Once you get to know him, though, the guy's a real angel."

"Hm." Donna spent a moment drinking in silence, then smiled. "At least my weirdo has a sense of humor."

Dean blinked, then smiled. "Hey, man. Cass has got the dry wit thing _nailed_." Mostly because he was actually earnest about everything he said. "So. How you liking the States so far?"

Donna shrugged. "Not bad. I mean, it's no Barcelona. . . ."

"But at least you can get a decent drink, right?"

"And the dogs have noses."

Dean blinked at that one. ". . . Right."

"So. You and the stare master, you're just friends, then?"

Dean choked on his beer. "Yes. Yes we are."

"And you're traveling together."

"In a manner of speaking."

"Anyone ever assume the two of you are together?"

Dean smiled faintly. "Nah. They assume that about me and my brother Sam a lot, though."

Donna nodded. "He ever just start spouting off about something, then look at you like you should have any idea what he's talking about?"

"All the freaking time."

"So you don't know what he might've meant about me being an anomaly, then."

Dean looked up and shook his head. "Nope."

Donna nodded. "Well, that's alright, then."

"Donna!" Her companion had returned. One side of his shirt was untucked, his hair was even more askew than it had been ten minutes ago, and he'd put on a pair of glasses. "I was right, it _is_ brilliant, you've got to -- oh, hello there." He stuck his hand in Dean's face. "I'm the Doctor."

Dean glanced over at Donna, then shook the Doctor's hand. "Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you."

"Dean Winchester!" The Doctor said his name like it was the greatest thing on the planet. "You know, it's funny, we were actually here to attend a convention for a series of books about a Sam and a Dean. Well, and an angel, but those haven't been published by 2009." Dean's mouth dropped open. The Doctor didn't seem to notice. "Which reminds me," He spun back towards Donna, who raised her eyebrows at him curiously, and lifted his hand. "That's what's so brilliant. This hotel _actually has_ an infestation!"

Donna's nose wrinkled. "Infestation of _what?_ "

"Ghosts!" Both the Doctor's hands went up and he grinned like a jackass -- then dropped his hands and the grin a second later. "Well, ghost-like beings, anyway. Well, non-corporeal. Well, _gaseous_ , probably, rather like the Gelf --"

Dean groaned inwardly. "Wait. You two are fans of the _Supernatural_ series, right?"

"He is." Donna shrugged. "I've never heard of them."

"And you're ghost hunters."

The Doctor pushed his glasses back up his nose with one finger. "Not strictly speaking, no."

"Right. Maybe you shouldn't go running after the nasty infestation of ghosts, then."

"I think he said they were 'gaseous creatures'," said Donna.

Dean felt a gust of air at his back.

"Dean," said Castiel.

"Oy!" said Donna.

Dean shut his eyes and sighed. "Cass."

"The lead did not pan out."

"You don't say."

"Hang on." Dean opened his eyes to see the Doctor bouncing a finger in Castiel's direction. "Castiel."

Castiel looked at the Doctor, then narrowed his eyes, looking him carefully up and down. "Yes," he said.

"You're Castiel." The Doctor switched his finger to point at Dean. "And you're Dean."

"And you're the Doctor," Castiel said, eyes still narrowed and studying.

Donna raised her hand. "And I'm Donna."

Castiel looked at her and nodded. "You are."

"Right, so introductions are all done, then."

The Doctor shook his head. "But he's Castiel. And he's Dean."

Castiel glanced over at Dean. Dean shrugged. "He's a fan of Chuck's books."

"Ah."

"You're not in Chuck's books."

"Not the ones that have been published, no."

The Doctor managed to grab Castiel's hand and started shaking it a little bit furiously. "Oh this is a pleasure. I had absolutely no idea that you folks were real. And it's not usual for me to have absolutely no idea about something.

"It's true," Donna said. "He's annoying, like that."

"Cass," said Dean. He was, in fact, starting to get annoyed. "Who is this guy?"

"He's the Doctor."

"Yeah, I got that part."

"He's an alien," said Donna.

"Right." What? "An alien. Who knows everything."

"Well, almost everything." The Doctor smiled. "Now, I suspect we four have some work to do."

"No," said Dean. "From the sound of it, _Cass and I_ have some work to do. I don't do amateurs."

"You're ghost hunters," said Donna.

"I'm a hunter," Dean corrected. "Castiel's an angel."

"Not the spooky stone kind," the Doctor said cheerfully. "And I would love to hear all about that, later."

Dean pushed away from the bar. "Fine, leave him your number." He started towards the door. Castiel, the Doctor, and Donna all started to follow. He stopped and spun around. "This isn't up for debate."

The Doctor held up his hands. "I promise to be careful."

Donna snorted. "You? Careful?"

"I'm always careful."

"Dean," said Castiel. "The Doctor might prove to be useful on this hunt."

Dean looked from Castiel to the Doctor, who smiled. He looked at Donna, who shrugged. "We do this sort of thing a lot," she said.

Dean sighed. "Fine. But if you get hurt, I _warned_ you."

"You did," agreed the Doctor cheerfully. " _Allons-y!_ "


End file.
